It Wasn't Loaded!
by Ashley5627
Summary: Mozzie said the gun wasn't loaded, but the bullet in Neal's leg says otherwise. Neal!Whump. Now beta'd!
1. Chapter 1

**This story is now beta'd by Larura. Thank you Larura!**

**This story takes place sometime before Neal goes to jail the first time.**

**Warning: blood and graphic description** **of the removal of a bullet. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar.**

**Enjoy!**

Neal was in the apartment he and Mozzie were holding up in, waiting for Mozzie to come back, when the door opened and Neal stood up.

A man with a very large hat and a trench coat walked in and said, "Bonjour, mon frer."

"Hey Moz, you get the stuff?" Neal asked his strange friend.

"Yep, all set," he said as he took off his coat and hat and went over to the kitchenette, looking for some of the wine they might still have.

That's when he saw the gun; it was sticking out of the waistband of Mozzie's pants. "Mozzie, what the hell is that?"

"What?! What?!" Mozzie asked, looking around for a threat and the nearest exit.

"The gun! Why do you have a gun?" Neal said, pointing at the offending object.

"Oh - I need it for protection. This part of town's not safe," Mozzie said, pulling out the gun.

"Ok, fine, just don't point it at me."

"It's not even loaded, look," Mozzie said, taking out the magazine and showing it to Neal.

"Ok, I believe you - just put it away."

"You're so paranoid." Neal just raised his eyebrow at that. "Right, never mind." Mozzie continued to play with the gun while Neal backed up a few steps.

Soon something happened that Neal was afraid of and that Mozzie never expected. The gun went off.

The sound echoed though the apartment as did Neal's cry of pain. He fell to the floor and clutched the bullet wound on his thigh. It felt like it was on fire. But Mozzie just stood there, staring at the gun in shock.

"Moz," Neal said in a strained voice, trying to get the man's attention. But Mozzie didn't move.

The blood seemed to be everywhere, soaking through Neal's jeans and pooling on the floor, his hand not doing enough to stop it. "Mozzie!" he yelled, and Mozzie finally moved.

He looked at Neal with wide eyes full of panic. "Oh my god! What did I do? It wasn't loaded!"

"It's ok, just get me a towel and call Dustin, he'll help," Neal ordered.

"Ok, ok. Towel and phone," Mozzie said as he left to get the items.

Neal was starting to feel light headed and the pain was almost unbearable. He leaned back against the wall and tried to take deep breaths.

Mozzie came back with three towels and his phone. He gave the towels to Neal, who put them on the bullet wound, set his jaw and pressed down on the wound. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned in pain.

Mozzie was on the phone, trying to explain the situation to Dustin in the highest-pitched voice Neal had ever heard from the man.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he remembered was Mozzie yelling his name over and over. "What?"

"Thank God! Don't do that again!" Mozzie ordered.

"Ok. Dustin coming?" Neal noticed that Mozzie was a lot blurrier than the last time he saw him.

"He'll be here in ten minutes, so stay awake, ok?" Mozzie said. Then he crouched down and moved Neal's hand and pressed down on the wound, hard.

Neal let out a cry as the pain in his leg doubled. He wanted to move away, hit Mozzie or yell at him, but he knew he was just trying to help. "Sorry! Just uh ... breathe, ok?" Neal just nodded jerkily and tried to listen to Mozzie's instructions.

By the time Dustin arrived, Neal was sweating, shaking and was just trying to stay awake and control the pain.

Dustin knocked on the door. "Stay alive," Mozzie instructed and got up to open the door. He came back with Dustin in tow.

"Oh my god!" Dustin said. He turned to Mozzie. "You said it was a flesh wound!"

"It is! It's in his flesh."

Dustin kneeled down next to Neal and opened up the bag he brought, taking out gauze, gloves and an IV. He put the gloves on and sat the other things aside. "I need to see if it's a through-and-through. Can you lift up your leg?"

Neal nodded and lifted his leg about an inch. It was enough for Dustin to get his hand under, but the movement sent more pain up and down his leg.

"Damn," Dustin said, then put gauze on the wound and applied pressure. Neal winced and stifled a cry of pain.

"Damn?! What's wrong?!" Mozzie said from behind Dustin.

"The bullet is still in his leg. He needs to go to the hospital," Dustin said.

"No hospital," Neal said as he shook his head.

"I can't help you. I'm not equipped to do this," Dustin said, upset that he couldn't help his friend.

"He can't go to the hospital! The Feds would find him there!" Mozzie said.

"Can you get it out?" Neal asked.

Dustin hesitated. He could in theory, but he'd never done it before. He was just a med school dropout. "I can try."

"You can try?! That's not reassuring," Mozzie piped in.

"Reassuring would be a hospital. I do discrete." Dustin turned to Neal and said, "What do you want me to do?"

"Get it out," Neal said, nodding his head.

"Ok," Dustin said, then he got out more gauze, tweezers and a tourniquet. "Mozzie, I'm going to need your help," he said to the nervous man behind him.

"Uh... I don't do so good around blood," Mozzie said, not wanting to get near the unsanitary red stuff that was coming out of his friend.

"Mozzie, get over here and help me - now!" Dustin said in a no-nonsense tone. He got a pair scissors and cut Neal's pants around the wound.

Mozzie reluctantly came over and kneeled down on the other side of Neal. "What do you need me to do?"

Dustin wrapped the tourniquet above the wound and tightened it, causing Neal to wince in pain. "You need to hold him still."

"Hold him still?" Mozzie questioned. He looked to Neal and said "You're going to hold still, right?"

"I'll try," Neal said.

"He's not going to be able to," Dustin said grimly as he started an IV of fluids, then pulled out some more gloves and handed them to Mozzie. "You'll need those." Mozzie took the gloves and put them on. Dustin pulled out a bowl, filled it with alcohol and put the tweezers and a scalpel in it. The whole time Neal was watching with a half-lidded pained and fearful look.

Dustin grabbed the scalpel and said, "Hold him down," to Mozzie.

Mozzie hesitated for a second, but complied by putting one hand on Neal's shoulder and the other on his uninjured leg. "Just ... stay as still as you can, ok?" Mozzie said to Neal and Neal nodded jerkily.

Dustin looked at Neal and said, "I'm sorry," and made a cut over the wound to make the opening bigger. Neal screamed, but held still. He didn't bother to try to stifle any sounds of pain as he knew no one in that neighborhood would report any sounds like screaming or gunshots. No one would want the police coming around and spotting any illicit activity that they may be part of, so they just kept to themselves.

Dustin then got the tweezers and used the other side of the scalpel to move back the flesh to see the bullet.

Neal couldn't help but make noise whenever Dustin made an adjustment and sent fire down his leg. He moved a few times, but Mozzie helped hold him still.

Dustin had a little trouble getting to the bullet with the tweezers, but he finally got it and pulled it out. "Ok, got it." Dustin looked up at his patient. He was sweating, shaking, and taking fast, shallow breaths.

Neal looked up at Dustin with half-lidded eyes. "Got it?"

Dustin nodded and held up the tweezers that had the bullet. "Got it."

Neal nodded and said, "Good." Then he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.

"Is he ok?" Mozzie asked. He was really getting worried.

Dustin checked Neal's pulse and breathing. "Yeah, he's ok; he just passed out." He then applied gauze to the wound to stop the bleeding.

After a few seconds Mozzie asked, "Is he _going_ to be ok?"

"If he rests and takes antibiotics he should be." Dustin got out a suture kit and closed the wound, then put a bandage over the wound. "We need to get him on a bed or something."

"We'll move him to the couch. I can keep an eye on him there." He looked to Neal then back to Dustin. "Should we try to wake him?" Mozzie asked.

Dustin nodded. "Yeah, but he might not wake up." Dustin took off his gloves and tapped Neal's cheek with his hand. "Neal, can you wake up? We need to get you on the couch," he said.

Neal moaned, opened his eyes and looked around. His eyes landed on Mozzie. "Moz?" He asked.

"Hey man, do you think you could help us get you to the couch?"

"Yeah, I can try," he said.

Dustin and Mozzie each took an arm and hulled him up to his feet. The pain in Neal's leg doubled and the world went grey around the edges for a second. When everything came back to focus he was laying on the couch with two pairs of concerned eyes watching him. "Did I pass out?" He asked and they both nodded.

Dustin turned to Mozzie and said, "Just make sure he takes those pills and gets plenty of rest." Then he faced Neal and said "No trouble making," with a point of his finger.

"Me? Never," Neal said with a sleepier version of his usual smile.

"Call me if you need me," Dustin said as he left.

Mozzie looked back at Neal, but he was sleeping again. Mozzie went over and checked his pulse just to make sure, then sat down on a chair next to his friend and watched him, making sure he was ok.

Neal woke up a few hours later feeling like crap, but not as lightheaded as before and if he didn't move his leg, then it didn't hurt as bad. Neal looked at Mozzie and he could see he still felt guilty about shooting him. "It's not your fault, not really," he said, trying to console his friend.

Suddenly Mozzie was out of his chair and started pacing. "I shot you! You should be yelling at me. Why aren't you mad at me?" Mozzie turned to Neal, his eyes pleading to answer him.

"Because it's not your fault. You didn't know it was loaded."

Mozzie still seemed unsure.

"Ok, how about this? You take care of me and I'll forgive you." Neal knew that Mozzie was going to take care of him anyway, but this way he might be able to accept Neal's forgiveness.

Mozzie knew that Neal forgave him, but this way it would be easier to accept his forgiveness.

"Wait, there's one more condition," Neal said.

"What's that?" Mozzie asked.

"You get rid of that gun," Neal said with a smile on his face.

Mozzie smiled back and nodded. "Deal."


	2. Chapter 2

**Here re is the next and final chapter of this story. I didn't want just end it like that so I wrote some more. Hope you like it! Enjoy!**

**Thank you again Larura for beta-ing this story!**

The next day Neal seemed to be doing ok, but he was still weak and in pain.

The day after that, he started running a fever and mentioned he was cold a few times. And when Mozzie changed the bandages on the wound, he noticed that it looked a lot more red than before.

Mozzie tried to call Dustin, but he wasn't picking up.

"Calm down, Moz. I need to just keep taking the antibiotics and I'll be fine," Neal said from his spot on the couch.

"Do you really think those pills are going to help you now?" Mozzie asked as he paced the small room.

"Well, I can't go to the hospital and Dustin isn't picking up, so we need to just wait it out."

"What if Dustin doesn't call back and you get worse?"

"Well, then we go to the hospital," Neal said.

"We?" Mozzie asked. "I can't go to the hospital! Everyone knows the patients and visitors are tagged and put in the system! And there are germs! You have to go, I don't," Mozzie ranted.

"And how am I going to get there?" Neal asked, giving a pointed look at his leg.

Mozzie just stared at his leg for a few seconds, seemingly in deep thought. Then he looked up to Neal and said, "I didn't think of that."

"Well, we don't even need to worry about that right now anyway." Neal tried to find a more comfortable position, but just made his leg throb more and he let out a small yelp.

"You ok?" Mozzie asked. Every time Neal made a noise or even _looked_ hungry, he was there asking if he needed anything. It was a little annoying, but Neal knew he meant well. And how does someone look hungry anyway?

"Yeah Moz, it just hurts."

"Ok. Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"Actually, I'm not that hungry right now." His stomach had been rolling all day and food didn't sound appealing right then.

"You're going to need something on your stomach to take your pills in a half an hour."

"Fine, I'll have some soup," Neal said, knowing he wouldn't win that argument.

"Soupe poulet et nouilles coming right up," Mozzie said and he went over to make some food.

Neal closed his eyes and let the sounds Mozzie made as he went about the kitchenette lull him to sleep.

WCWCWCWC

The next day, Neal's fever got worse. He had been sweating and shivering, the wound started swelling and was hot to the touch, and he threw up.

The moment that he threw up, Mozzie decided to take him to the hospital.

"That's it, we're going," Mozzie told the man on the couch who looked like death warmed over.

"Mkay," Neal said, and closed his eyes.

Mozzie walked over to his sick friend and said, "You have to help a little – you're heavier than you look."

"All muscle," Neal answered automatically without opening his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, up!" Mozzie said, and tapped Neal's face.

Neal moaned and sluggishly tried to push the hand away, but he opened his eyes and that's what Mozzie wanted.

Mozzie grabbed one of the swinging arms, brought it across his shoulder and hefted him up, causing a cry of pain to escape Neal's throat. "I'm sorry, but we have to get to the car, then you can rest."

A T-shirt and sweatpants were probably not what Neal thought was worthy to leave the house in, but Mozzie was not going to help change him now.

Mozzie and Neal slowly made their way to the door. Mozzie let Neal lean against the wall while he unlocked the various locks on the door.

Neal started slipping to the floor, but Mozzie caught him in time before he made it all the way. "Come on, we're almost there." He got a better hold of his injured friend and got him through the door before locking up and making his way down the empty hall.

Neal seemed to make some sort of noise every time he took a step with his injured leg, but he kept going. Somewhere in his fever-ridden mind, he must have known that wherever Mozzie was taking him, it was the right place to go.

After a long, painful walk down a staircase and to the car, both men were panting and sweating from exertion. Mozzie opened the passenger side door and helped Neal into the seat. Then he made his way around to the other side of the car, got in and started the engine.

He looked over to his friend and saw that he had already fallen into a restless sleep.

Mozzie put the car into drive and made his way to the hospital.

When they made it to the hospital, Neal woke up.

"Moz, where are we?" He asked groggily as he looked around the parking lot they were in.

Mozzie resisted rolling his eyes at his confused friend. "The hospital, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, remembering now. "Wait, what are we going to tell them? They have to report gunshot wounds."

"As much as it pains me, the truth. It was an accident," Mozzie said. "Oh yeah - your name is Nick Halden." Mozzie handed Neal his fake ID.

"Won't the police recognize that alias?"

"I didn't have time to make another one, so this is all we have, sorry. And I'm Dante Haversham. Remember to call me that, and not Mozzie."

"Ok. Wait, what about them tagging you?" Neal asked, possibly joking.

Mozzie took out something that looked like a remote control and pressed a few buttons on it. He then put it in his pocket and patted it. "I got that under control."

Neal nodded, looking both confused and amused.

"Ok, let's go," Mozzie said with a sigh.

Mozzie got out of the car and went around to the passenger side. Neal had the door open, but had made no move to get out without help.

Mozzie got him out and they slowly made their way to the emergency waiting room. Once there, Mozzie sat Neal down on one of the chairs, went to the nurse's desk and got a bunch of papers to fill out.

Neal dozed during most of the waiting, so he didn't know how long they had to wait, but he knew Mozzie could be very convincing when he needed to be.

A nurse pushing a wheelchair came up to them and said, "Mr. Halden? Can you come with me?" Her name tag said Marie.

Neal nodded, and with help from Mozzie and Marie, got in the wheelchair. Mozzie started to follow, but Marie stopped and shot him a questioning look. "I'm coming with you," Mozzie said. It was not a question.

Marie looked at Neal and he said "he can come." Marie nodded and pushed Neal down the hall and to a room with about twenty beds that had curtains around them to provide some privacy.

She helped him onto one of the beds and checked his breathing, temperature, blood pressure and heart rate. She asked him a few questions, said, "The doctor will see you soon," then left, closing the curtain as she did.

Neal turned to Mozzie and said "More waiting?"

"Someone will be here soon. You have a gunshot wound; that's more important than the sneezing kid and the guy who cut his hand that were in the waiting room with us," Mozzie explained.

Neal nodded, leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

After about ten minutes, a doctor in a white lab coat holding a clipboard opened the curtain. "Mr. Halden?" He asked. Neal nodded. "My name is Dr. Fisher," he said and looked at the clipboard. "It says here that you were shot in the thigh?" He said and raised an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly.

Mozzie spoke up. "It was an accident," he said.

"An accident?" Dr. Fisher questioned.

"Yes. I was unloading my gun when, uh, the bullet came out of the gun ... and went into Nick's leg," Mozzie explained with many hand gestures.

"You ... shot him?" The doctor asked.

Mozzie mentally rolled his eyes. Was his going to have to explain everything? "Yes."

Dr. Fisher seemed unsure but came up to Neal and said, "Can I look at your wound?" Neal nodded and struggled to get his sweatpants off. When he did, the doctor pulled off the bandage and winced. "Why didn't you come in earlier?"

"You guys have to report gunshot wounds. We didn't want to get in trouble," Neal said before Mozzie could stop him.

The doctor raised his eyebrows and said "Well, if it was an accident, then you won't get in trouble." He continued to inspect the wound. "Did you do the stitches yourself?" He asked Mozzie. "They look professional." He looked at Mozzie expectedly.

"I watch a lot of Grey's Anatomy," he said, as if that explained everything.

The doctor nodded, but didn't look convinced. "Well, it's definitely infected. We'll need to irrigate the wound and admit you to give you antibiotics," he explained.

Neal nodded and the doctor left to get things ready.

It only took about fifteen minutes for someone to come and get him and take him to a room where they hooked Neal up to a bunch of things that Mozzie hoped weren't tagging him.

Neal refused to wear the hospital gown that they wanted him to, something to do with it being ugly or some such nonsense, and eventually he got a nurse to give him a pair of blue scrubs instead.

Two police officers came by later that day, when Neal was a lot more sane of mind, and took their statements. They didn't see any discrepancies in the story they told and let them be.

Mozzie was sure to keep watch for any 'suits' that might be lurking about. One could never be too careful when it comes to The Man.

Nothing happened for two days, which Mozzie was grateful for. But the shit hit the fan on day three.

Mozzie was doing his usual random patrol around Neal's room when he saw a man in a Brooks Brothers suit that just screamed 'Fed.'

Inside, Mozzie's heart was racing, but he kept up a cool front as he discreetly read the lips on the suit and the doctor that he was talking to.

"Agent Peter Burke, FBI," the suit said as he held up his badge. (He knew he was a Fed!) "Can you tell me where Nick Halden is?"

'This is not good. Not good at all,' Mozzie thought to himself. He had to get Neal out of there before Agent Burke could find him.

Mozzie quickly ducked into a patient's room who was in a coma and pressed the code red button. Hopefully the doctors would get distracted enough with that and not answer the suit's questions.

Mozzie left the room through a different door and made his way to Neal's room.

Neal had been getting a lot better since he arrived, and the doctors said that he could leave the next day, but now that plan was out the window. Blasted suit.

Mozzie had stolen some antibiotics while no one was looking for just this occasion. he was pretty sure that the meds that Dustin gave them were expired. That would have explained why they didn't work. The meds that he grabbed were _not_.

When Mozzie got to Neal's room, Neal was sitting up and looking very bored. "Hey, Moz. Do you think-" Neal noticed the panicked look in his friend's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"The damn suits are here. We have to get out of here," Mozzie urged Neal as he walked over to the bed.

Neal put down the guardrail and carefully swung his legs off the bed. "Did you see them?" Neal asked.

"Of course I saw them. They're distracted, but they won't be for long," Mozzie said and grabbed the crutches that were leaning against the wall by the bed. He held them as Neal pulled out his IV and took the pulse ox off his finger. The pain medication helped a lot, but he was still in a lot of pain, so he really didn't like the idea of having not medication. But such luxuries were not an option at the moment.

Neal took the crutches, stood up and put them under his armpits. "Do you have a plan?" Neal asked. Mozzie usually had a plan, but Neal would like to know how crazy it was before he jumped into it head-first.

"Yes, I have a plan." Mozzie rolled his eyes. Of course he had a plan. "We walk out the door."

Neal just stared at him for a second. "That's it? We just walk out the door?" Neal almost yelled. "Do you even know where the Feds are right now?"

"Uh, no."

"You had two days to come up with a plan, and this is what you come up with?!"

"Well, what do you suggest? Tie together bed sheets and climb out the window?"

Neal looked over to the window, then to the bed. They were on the third floor and the window was big enough to fit through, but there may not be enough bed sheets….

"No! Stop!" Mozzie said and snapped his fingers at Neal. "Stop thinking of stupid plans that would get us killed!"

"Your plan's not much better, Moz."

"Ok, so what do we do?"

Neal stopped and thought for a minute. The medication he had been taking was clouding his usually sharp mind. "Ok, I have a plan," he told Mozzie. "You go out and pull the fire alarm. In the confusion, we slip out and get the hell out of dodge."

Mozzie nodded and turned to the door. "Why didn't I think of that?" Mozzie muttered to himself as he left.

A few seconds later, alarms were going off and Neal waited a few more seconds before he went to the door. He suddenly stopped when he realized that the door was self-closing. He couldn't open the door with the crutches, but couldn't put them down.

'Well this was a stupid door for a hospital,' Neal thought as he tried to figure out if he could stay standing with only one crutch.

A solution showed its self in the form of a pretty young nurse by the name of Vicki opening the door.

"What's happening?" Neal asked, playing the part of the worried patient.

"It's probably nothing, but we need to evacuate the building. Can you come with me?" She asked nicely.

"Yeah, ok," he said and hobbled out while she held the door open.

Neal looked down the halls to see doctors, nurses and patients everywhere. Neal inwardly smiled. This plan could really work.

Vicki was ushering him toward the door to the stairs when he saw no one other than Peter Burke looking right at him.

He seemed a little shocked, but mostly excited to be that close to catching _The_ Neal Caffrey.

Neal flashed him a wide grin and bolted the other direction. Neal could hear Peter yelling for him to stop, but he was _not_ going to jail today. "No thanks, Agent Burke!" He yelled.

Neal turned a corner and nearly ran into Mozzie. "Why are you running?!" Mozzie yelled as Neal went around him and he followed.

"He spotted me," Neal panted. Behind him, Mozzie cursed.

Suddenly there was a loud crash. Neal turned briefly and saw that Mozzie had knocked down a cart of medical supplies. Peter was a few feet behind, but now he had to stop to get around the obstacle.

"Nice one, Moz," Neal said breathlessly. The run was really taking it out of him.

They turned around another corner and saw the elevators. Unfortunately, the elevators were shut down when the fire alarms went off. They were going to have to take the stairs. That was not going to be an easy thing to do on crutches.

The door to the stairs were at the end of the hall. Neal looked back again and saw that Peter was catching up.

Mozzie moved a gurney that was against the wall into the FBI agent's way in order to slow him down a little more.

They made it to the stairway door and Mozzie held it open for Neal. Neal went through and Mozzie followed, shutting the door just as Peter made it there. Mozzie held the door closed as the agent tried to pull it open.

Neal weighed their options in his head for a second, then leaned against the wall and shoved one of his crutches behind the push bar in order to jam the door.

"Aren't you going to need that?" Mozzie asked.

"You can be my other crutch," Neal replied, and beckoned Mozzie closer.

Mozzie came over to his friend and pulled Neal's arm across his shoulders. "I wasn't kidding when I said you're heavier than you look," Mozzie commented as they made their way to the top of the steps.

Neal smiled. "All muscle," he said, and they started their awkward descent down the flight of stairs.

It wasn't an easy feat. There were quite a few people on the stairs who were trying to evacuate the building, but they slowly made it down the two flights of stairs and out the door to the emergency waiting room. By the time they made it all the way down, Neal's leg was throbbing painfully.

The hospital was now a scene of controlled chaos. Doctors, nurses and patients were all making their way to the exits and Mozzie and Neal easily blended in the crowd and made it out to the parking lot.

"Where'd you park the car?" Neal asked.

"This way." Mozzie steered them to the right and soon they were at the car.

Neal turned and saw Peter running toward them. "Caffrey!" He yelled.

Mozzie let go of Neal so he could lean against the passenger side door as Mozzie unlocked the car and ran around to the driver's side. The doors unlocked and both men jumped into the car.

"Come on, Moz," Neal urged.

"That tone won't make me go any faster," Mozzie said as he started up the car and pulled out of the parking spot.

Neal turned around to look behind them. Peter made it just in time to watch as they drove out of the parking lot and to the street. He was on his radio, yelling angrily into it. Neal smiled and waved. And Neal could have sworn he saw a small smile on the agent's face.

Neal looked forward again and smiled. Peter Burke was outsmarted by Neal Caffrey once again.

"And then we drove off into the sunset," Neal said, as he finished off the last bit of his wine.

"I still can't believe Mozzie shot you," Peter said and shook his head.

"It was an accident, and it healed completely," Neal told him.

"Did you ever find out what happened to Dustin?" Peter asked.

Neal nodded. "Yeah. His mom got in an accident and he had to leave town. It turned out that she was just rear-ended, but the nurse who called him didn't tell him that. She just said that she was in an accident. Unfortunately, in his rush to pack, he left one of his burner phones."

"That's what happens when you have more than one phone," Peter said.

"Well, if the Feds just kept their noses out of where they don't belong, then people like Dustin wouldn't have to have more than one phone," Neal explained with a feigned harsh tone.

Peter smiled and thought of the story Neal just told him, then suddenly thought of something. "You said that Mozzie would get rid of the gun. Did he?"

"The police only wanted to see it and its proper paperwork, but Mozzie just gave both to them. Said that it was dangerous and he didn't want it anymore."

"And I'm sure the paperwork was legitimate," Peter said with a knowing look.

"Of course! Neither me nor Mozzie would ever forge legal documents," Neal replied with a smirk.

Peter took one last swig of beer and stood up. "Well, we didn't figure out where Sawyer is hiding out, but I don't think this night was wasted."

Neal got up as well and walked Peter to the door of his apartment. "I agree. He'll come out soon enough and we'll catch him. Until then." Neal looked out the door that led to his balcony where he could see the sun beginning to rise. He looked back at Peter. "I think we both could use some sleep."

Peter nodded in agreement. "Good thinking. I'll see you later," Peter said and left.

Neal walked over to his bed and sat down. He looked down at his tracking anklet and smiled. Peter Burke may have outsmarted Neal Caffrey in the end, but Neal was ok with the result.

**The End!**

**'Soupe poulet et nouilles' is chicken noodle soup in French.**

**thank you for reading! Reviews make me smile! :-)**


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